


You're the Storm that I Believe in

by evening_spirit



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Disabled Character, Canon Divergence AU, Child Abuse, High School, Jesse Manes is the worst, M/M, Major Character Injury, WARNING: Graphic Depiction of Abuse, after some major pain though, other characters will be added, other tags will also be added, they will be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2020-07-08 14:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19871182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evening_spirit/pseuds/evening_spirit
Summary: INCOMPLETE!!! and at the moment I lack motivation to keep it going. Sorry.What would happen if Alex stood up to his father in the shed? This story is just one of the posiibilities...Michaels' powers act up, Max and Isobel receive his psychic call, Isobel doesn't kill Kate and Jasmine and then Rosa, Rosa is alive and... all the consequences thereof. Meanwhile Alex is badly hurt and Michael will do everything in his power to get him out of his father's "care". With a lot of help from their friends.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning: grapic description of canon compliant (and subsequent AU) violence and child abuse.**
> 
> Read and... em... ~~enjoy~~ just read.
> 
> THE STORY IS UNFINISHED and considering the clusterf*ck Roswell New Mexico has become as of 2x06, it is NOT LIKELY that it will ever BE COMPLETED. If you don't like unresolved stories, turn away now. Thank you for clicking.

* * *

The door slams open and Alex knows.

He stands there and He looks and that's enough. They are not going to get out of this alive.

Was it worth it? runs through his head. Two hours, almost, of happiness, was it worth it – to die now?

It was, he tells himself. It will be, but only on one condition.

The Man enters and Alex stands up, even though his muscles protest. The Man turns his back, nonchalant, and deliberately closes the door and Alex hopes, for the sake of everything that's dear to him he hopes, that if he stands tall (be small! shrink! disappear!), if he stands broad enough, somehow, inscrutably, miraculously, he will hide Michael from the Man's view. 

The Man, Manes, reaches for the hammer and Alex's lungs go void of all air, his stomach twists and scrunches like a balloon in a vacuum. He's not brave enough, but he begs, "Dad," in a small voice, like a child that he is. He's acutely aware of Michael's presence right behind him.

'Dad' doesn't know mercy.

"This ends. Now," he says, then, "How dare you? Under my roof."

"This has nothing to do with you!" Alex screams and in a blink of an eye he finds himself pinned against the wall behind his back, his throat in an iron grip of his father's fingers, unable to breathe, barely able to reach the floor with the toes of his shoes. He whines and whimpers like a helpless pup.

"Everything you do," his father hisses into his face, his breath smelling of chorizo and cigarettes. So normal. So every-day-ish. "I will not be humiliated."

And then it all goes all kinds of wrong.

First Michael screams, "Don't touch him," then his father's hand lets go of his throat as Michael pushes him away and then father steals the momentum, presses Michael's hand against the workbench and slams his hammer into it.

Michael screams.

Alex screams too and like never before he charges at the monster that made his teenage years a living hell and now attacked the person Alex loves.

He's not strong enough. The monster pushes him away with ease and Alex stumbles, turns and finds himself on the floor as a white-hot rod sharpened in volcanic fires carves into his knee. And again. And again...

* * *

Later Michael remembers Alex's words. "Things at my house suck."

He didn’t understand what those words meant. He thought, why? because Mom and Dad don’t like the way you dress? Did they yell at you for not cleaning your room or took away your internet privileges? That’s the worst offence he could imagine the Evanses committing against Isobel or Max, and Alex lives with his actual, biological family. 'Things suck' can be such a relative term.

But he took Alex up on his offer and moved into the shed by Alex's house. He kissed Alex in the empty exhibit room at the museum and then, they had sex. Amazing, awkward, mind-blowing, giggly-stupid and cosmic sex.

They are still in bliss, still longing to be close, to touch, one more time maybe feel the warmth of the other. Alex smiles at him and his eyes shine like stars. It's cheesy, but it's true. What could possibly go wrong with this picture?

Even when Sergeant Manes opens the shed door and Alex jumps up like he wants to go straight through the roof, Michael doesn't realize what is coming. Even the hammer only seems like a tool to scare them with, not a real threat. A father wouldn't hit his own son with a hammer, now would he?

Even when older Manes holds Alex in the air by the throat.

Well, that is bad. Bad enough that it draws out a reaction from Michael; he plunges forward, between the two of them and pushes the Dad away with a scream. But he still doesn't know the extent to which this man hates the deviation, as he'd call it. Doesn't realize the extent to which this monster would act on that hatred.

His hand is on fire and the whole world screams with him as he stumbles to the floor holding his arm to his chest. He never experienced anything like it. The tearing, the mind numbing, raw, not refined, pure pain. It becomes his whole existence and it takes a moment for another searing sensation to reach his ears through the fog.

A scream.

A different scream. Not his own.

Michael cracks one eye open and, distorted through tears and pain, he registers an image of a raised hand holding a hammer high in the air, its head shining against the beams of the roof, falling, falling, falling. A thud. And another eardrum-piercing scream.

Michael blinks. Alex, he remembers. He's in Alex's shed and his father... Raises the hammer again and with full force slams it down once more.

Alex screams again, but this scream ends with something more like a whimper and Michael feels his power rise in him as he pushes the darned bastard Jesse Manes away from Alex, away from himself, high up and against the wall. He hopes he broke all of his bones. Jesse crumbles to the ground along with the remains of the shed wall, unconscious.

Michael crawls closer to Alex, unable to straighten up himself, still squirming from pain. Alex's right leg is a bloody mess of jeans, tissue and protruding white bone. Shit.

"Alex," Michael whispers but receives no answer, only a constant soft whimper on each exhale. "Alex?" He nears his... his who? His boyfriend? His lover? Who is Alex to him now, they only did it once. He nears his face and strokes his cheek, but Alex doesn't react, his eyes open but unseeing, his beautiful lips trembling as he tries to maybe say something or maybe just breathe. "You're gonna be okay," Michael whispers. "You're gonna be okay, my love. I won't let him hurt you again."

He pulls out the phone with his good hand and calls emergency services. He stays for a moment, still stroking Alex's face but then he remembers – he can't be tested. He can't go to the hospital, where they would take his blood, do the x-rays and who knows what else they'd do and any or each of those things might reveal that he is not human underneath this human exterior. That's he's the other, that he's alien.

He stumbles through the acacia shrub that encloses the Manes' property and falls out to the pavement and nearly collides with... Max Evans.

"What a--" he stutters, "What you?--"

"I felt you," Max breathes out. "I felt-- what happened?" he grabs Michael's bloody hand, but Michael snatches it away.

The sirens of an ambulance are heard in the distance.

"We gotta get away from here!" he whispers with urgency and Max doesn't need it repeated twice. They stumble a couple houses down the street, duck into an abandoned lot and there, finally, Max reaches for Michael's hand again. He curses, shakes his head and Michael feels the warmth emanating from his palms.

"No!" he screams, pulling away once more. "You can't do that," he looks behind himself, like he could see what's going on at the Manes's. "You can't, unless," he turns back to his brother. "Can you do that with someone else?"

"Like a human?"

"Yeah."

"You know I can't. That would expose us!" he objects vehemently, then dials down his protests. "What happened? Did you fight with somebody?"

"No!" Michael begins, then remembers Jesse Manes laying in a heap among shattered planks. "I didn't start it," he adds in a quiet voice.

"But you used your power?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'll remember. Anyway, it's not about him, it's about..." Michael's eyes sting as Alex's face – empty, lifeless – crops up in his memory. A shudder runs through his entire body. He tries to hug himself but the hand hurts like all get out. Although a little less if he thinks about it. It doesn't look so distorted either and he can move the fingers. Only the skin is torn and turns ashen. "You did heal it."

"Not all the way. What happened there, Michael? Your psychic scream was... It freaked me out!"

Michael slowly closes his palm in a fist, then opens it. Should he tell? Can he tell? Alex didn't want anyone to know, he made it perfectly clear, more times than once, that their relationship was not supposed to be found out. It was odd, because everyone at school knew he was gay, but now Michael thinks that maybe it was because of his father. He thinks that maybe Alex was afraid of what his father might do to someone who... what he did to him.

Jesse Manes has to be exposed.

"I was with Alex. Like with-with," he tells, glaring straight into Max's eyes and seeing a surprise and then curiosity and some sort of... pride?... there. Pride is good. "His father found us and," Michael lifts his palm again, "he did that. But it was when he attacked Alex, I couldn't just watch. I had to protect him."

"Is he hurt?"

"Yeah. His leg is a-- wait! You mean his father? Or Alex?"

"Yeah. Both. But, yeah, I want to know if you hurt anyone bad enough, you know."

Michael wants to punch his brother in the mouth.

"I didn't check," he seethes and walks back out onto the street. All houses up and down are blinking white and blue echoing the lights of the emergency vehicles. They're too late.

Max pulls him back out of view.

"Are you nuts? You want them to see you?"

* * *

They get out on the other side, through another property, quiet as cats in the night.

"You're coming to my home," Max announces and Michael shakes his head, but Max is adamant. "Not a word, now. Isobel's already there."

"Iz?"

"She sensed your scream too. Stronger than I perhaps, you know Iz, it's her... deal. She... We... You know we can..." he waves his hands as if gestures were better at explaining. "Feel."

"I know."

Michael knows those two share a stronger bond than he does with either of them. He feels comforted, though, that in this moment of spectacular mess, he was able to reach the both of them. And that they both responded.

They walk a few streets over and enter the house that is quiet and dark, save for an elaborate torchiere in the living area, which doesn't really light up the room with its muted yellowish bulb. Max's and Isobel's adoptive parents aren't home, thank the stars for small miracles.

Iz doesn't look much better than Michael feels, she paces up and down the couch and bites her nails. Michael and Max exchange glances, but she focuses on Michael right away. She casts one glance at his hand, pushes him to sit in an armchair and runs to the bathroom, then brings back gauze and disinfectant. Her hands shake as she pours it on Michael's skin, in copious amount.

"Where were you?" Max asks and pulls a dried weed from her tangled hair. Michael can't remember ever seeing Isobel with tangled hair.

"Home!" Isobel screams and slaps Max's hand. She meets their eyes in turn and she knows that they know she's lying. So she huffs with fake superiority and takes the disinfectant back to the bathroom, leaving the gauze covering the bruises on Michael's palm.

Max sets his jaw. He isn't going to let it go and truthfully, neither is Michael, this time. When Max mentioned Isobel's blackouts earlier this day, at the Crashdown, Michael tried to downplay it; too much pot, stress, she's mad that they're leaving, welcome to my world. But right now, seeing her like this? Strange, but his own night pales to the background in his own mind. That's just how it's always been for him. Isobel and Max are his world and their problems are his problems.

"Isobel, we have to talk." Maxs stands up when Isobel returns to the room and his voice is so gentle, Michael's heart melts for them both.

She flops on the couch and Max joins her again. Michael remains on the armchair, right opposite from her. He could touch her knees if he leaned forward a little more.

"I was in the turquoise mines," Isobel blurts.

"The pods?" Max breathes out, alarmed and she shakes her head.

"No, the other side. Closer to town. I don't know how I got there," her voice breaks. Max puts an arm around her and Michael scoots closer and takes her hand in his. "I didn't bandage this..." She notices, but he squeezes her to stop.

"That's okay. It's better than it looks. Tell us. You didn't know how you got there?"

"No. But there were those two girls from school, I can't remember... Beth? Alice? Jane? No, Jasmine! Kate and Jasmine. They were tied up and gagged and I was standing above them, like... They looked really scared. So I-uh," she stops and looks at Max, then Michael, then Max again.

"What did you do?" Max asks under his breath.

"I felt Michael's call. I knew he needed me... Us. I, uh, I had to hurry, you know and the first thing I thought of was to erase their memories of me and just... I left them there. Asleep." She shrugs, then adds, as an afterthought. "What if someone comes and hurts them?"

* * *

Michael stays with Isobel while Max drives to where Iz told him she left the girls. When he comes back, he's more flustered than Isobel was.

"What happened?" Isobel raises to her feet right away, calmer than she has any right to be.

Michael's heart is hammering.

"I d-- I d-- I don't know," Max stutters. He paces up and down the room and tries to start several times over and finally Michael and Isobel coax a few sentences that form a story. It's a rather simple one. "When I got there Rosa Ortecho was yelling at them to stop being pussies and finally thank her that she found them and woke them up, and cut their ropes, before whoever left them there returned for seconds. Then she urged them into her car and drove back to Roswell."

"So all this," Michael waves his hands, "all this panic attack you just had was about it being Liz Ortecho's sister?"

Max looks at him with eyes of a pleading dog and all Michael can do is roll his eyes and sigh theatrically.

"So," Isobel asks. "They're safe?"

"Seems like it."

"And they didn't remember me?"

"That I don't know. I guess you'll find out tomorrow, at school."

Tomorrow. Right, tomorrow. Tomorrow's gonna be a hell of a day. Michael feels tired just thinking about it. He's got that one more thing to do tomorrow, beside Isobel's deal, the going to Sheriff Valenti thing. Telling him about what Jesse Manes did. It's gonna be a hell of a day.

"We gotta get some sleep," he tells Max and Iz.

"Yeah, we do." Both Max and Iz nod.

"And you're not going anywhere tonight." Isobel is back to her confident, commanding self. "You sleep in Max's room."

"Sure," Max agrees, then looks at Isobel, like he could pull some of that strength from her. "And you--" He falters under her scrutiny, but pushes through. "We still need to talk about what's happening with you, Isobel. The blackouts? Something's been going on with you and we have to figure out what."

Isobel inhales through her nose, loud, looks at Max, then at Michael, as if to make sure they mean it and she has no way to wiggle out of it. When she meets their determination, she breathes in and out loud, once again, and concedes with a single nod.

* * *

t.b.c.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will "I'M SORRY" be enough to apologize for not updating this story for... oh? four months, is it? Anyway, does anyone even remember what it was about?
> 
> I hope some of you do, or that you'll skim the first chapter to be reminded (or that you're new readers :). I also hope to write and update next chapters faster. My head is in a little bit better place these days, so... No promises or declarations, but I'm trying. As hard as I can. Thank you for your patience.
> 
> Give credit where it's due: thank you [EmmaArthur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaArthur/pseuds/EmmaArthur) for pointing out I should write Alex's part a little differently than it was in the draft version. Hope this one's... ugh... better.
> 
> I should probably give a WARNING for... well, **torture-like scenario**. Jesse Manes is a crime against humanity.

* * *

Michael wasn’t on the mattress next to him when Max woke up in the morning.

At least Isobel is alright – or appears to be, all smiles, perfect make-up and not a hair out of place. She’s too perfect and Max knows it means she’s stressed.

“See you at lunch.” She urges him away as they cross the school doorstep and strides forward like the Senior Year Queen that she is.

Max sighs and trots to AP Bio, where Liz – as totally _not_ per usual – glances back at him and smiles. Well, some parts of yesterday were pretty awesome, if he’s honest with himself. He had a great idea to offer to drive Liz and then they talked... He still wants to follow her, if she leaves Roswell after graduation.

He and Michael share history lesson next, but Michael doesn’t show up. Max can’t spot his curly head anywhere up until lunch, and when he finally sits opposite from Isobel in the cafeteria, he’s close to biting at his nails with worry.

“Everything’s good,” Isobel welcomes him, eyes shining and she bites on the carrot she holds in her hand.

“You think?” Max eyes her, suspiciously. Did she see Michael? Maybe she’s seen Michael and talked to him?

“Kate and Jasmine tried to hide a massive hangover all English, but when talking to me, they were as cute as ever,” Isobel informs him and Max remembers – she was worried if the girls would remember her. She probably didn’t even notice Michael wasn’t with them, eating half of their lunches. “They blame Rosa for drugging them without their knowledge,” she finishes with clear satisfaction.

“Well, great. What about Rosa?”

“She didn’t see me there,” Isobel shrugs.

“Did she see me?”

“How would I know? It’s not like Rosa still attends this school, so I can go to her and ask. Maybe you should talk to Liz instead, see if her sister mentioned anything?” Isobel waves a celery in a general direction of Liz, Maria and Alex’s usual table.

Alex isn’t present today either, Max notices and thinks that, hey, maybe he could get answers to two of his questions. He comes up to Liz and, two feet from her table, he stops awkwardly.

“Hey,” he stutters.

“Hey!” Maria welcomes him, then narrows her eyes and shots a quick back-and-forth between him and Liz.

“Hey, Max,” Liz says in a tone that clearly suggests she’s not enthusiastic about him being here, but she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. She ends up looking more awkward than he feels.

Max drops on a chair next to her.

“Look, this is not about yesterday and about what you said..." he starts and is promptly interrupted by Kyle Valenti dropping his backpack on the table in front of Liz, almost straight into her salad.

“What the Hell, Valenti?” Liz shrieks.

“Have you heard what happened? No?” He looks between Maria and Liz, ignoring Max. A group of his football buddies behind him grovel and snicker.

“Oh, you haven’t even noticed,” Valenti chuckles. “Well, that’s quite understandable, he’s not as important as he paints himself to be!” he laughs out loud and his buddies echo his cackle. “Manes,” he says after a moment. “Manes is not at school today, but I’m glad you stopped paying attention to that little queer. There’s hope for you yet.”

“You know what happened to him?” It’s Maria who asks the question, because Liz is too flustered with the language Kyle is using.

Kyle grins, like he wanted to be asked this question from the get go.

“He was arrested,” he declares, like it’s the news of the day.

“That’s a rumor,” Maria protests.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, De Luca, but it’s not a rumor, when it comes straight from the source.” He picks up his backpack and walks backwards sing-songing, “My dad is the sheriff.”

Liz and Maria stare at each other, their mouth gaping open, eyes worried.

“What could have happened?”

“Do you believe that?”

Max knows what happened, but he can’t say a word now. They would start asking how he knows and he can’t mention Michael being there, can he? He knows Michael attacked Jesse Manes and possibly injured him. If it all falls on Alex... Well, sorry about that, but it’s better than Michael.

Although it seems Michael is still somehow involved, considering he’s not at school.

“I’m going to talk to his dad,” Maria blurts out of the blue, standing up.

Liz is on her feet that same instant. “He’s probably dealing with it already.”

“I know but... I don’t know. I feel like we should ask what’s happening, maybe tell him we’re on his side? I don’t know, Liz!” Maria presses both her hands to the middle of her chest. “I feel this discomfort. In here! I have felt it all day long, but now I think I know what it is about!”

“Maybe...” Liz hesitates, “maybe we should go to the sheriff first and talk to Alex there, before we go to his dad? You know how Alex always says he’s no fun to be around when he gets upset.”

“You think they’ll let us talk to Alex?”

“Won’t hurt to try.”

“I’m coming with you!” Max blurts out of the blue, to the surprise of himself and both girls, who’d seemingly forgotten he was even there.

“What for?” Liz asks and Max is dumbfounded.

“Uh...” he stutters. “For moral support?”

Liz shrugs in a universal gesture of ‘whatever’ and as they leave, Max tries to convey some sort of a message toward Isobel, but he's not as skilled with that whole telepathy thing as she is.

* * *

Michael is a fool. A damn moron. How could he not have seen it coming? How could he think he would get out of this unscathed?

And now? If anyone finds out... Worse, if anyone connects him with Isobel and Max...

He holds the bars of the cell in his hands and stares at the sheriff’s desk in the other room, through half open door. Valenti isn’t there, he went to see Alex. To talk to Alex.

Because at the moment it is Michael’s word against Jesse Manes’s. The word of a drifter kid caught stealing twice already and left with a slap on his wrist those two times, because the whole town knew about his situation – against the word of a respected Air Force Sergeant. A man single-handedly raising four sons and keeping them all from trouble after their mother had left. A good man, a good father, a dedicated soldier.

And yet, Michael saw what he saw. A beast emerging from the man, raw burning hatred in his eyes. Directed at his own son. He will never forget the look in Jesse Manes’ eyes as he gripped Alex’s windpipe and uttered threats. He’ll never forget Alex’s terror. Alex knew what was coming from the start. Obviously, it was not the first time.

The blood in Michael’s veins freezes at the thought of a family – a real family, blood family – doing something like this to their own. He grew up with strangers, they were supposed to protect him and they hadn’t, but they were strangers. He’s sure, if he ever met his own people, they would love him. Just like he and Iz and Max love each other.

He doesn’t expect Max to come and rescue him, though. When he hears his voice next door, he’s surprised and happy all at once. He wants to tell Max that he’s fine and at the same time that he’s scared shitless and that he’s going to protect them and that he needs them to get him out, right fuckin’ now.

But all he hears instead is, “only family members, or a legal guardian as it stands. Or his attorney. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t even see Max’s face, only hears him beginning to argue, feels the electricity crackle and hears, who? Liz? try to placate him and guide him out, behind another set of door, where sounds are even more muffled.

So now, all he has left, is to wait for Valenti to get back from interrogating Alex and to hope that the word of two underage kids, that confirm each other’s testimonies, will value more against the lies of a well respected member of society.

* * *

Alex wakes to pain. If he could think, he’d probably consider this the worst pain he’s ever felt, as it is though, he can only wish it stopped.

It doesn’t.

He can’t tell what hurts either; this pain doesn’t have a location. It’s like his whole body is on fire.

“Alex?” he hears a voice, sound distorted by pain. “Are you awake?”

He tries to open his eyes, but all he manages is let two hot tears out. They burn as they roll down his temples.

“There, this should help,” someone next to him mutters and something clicks and a moment later strange warmth floods him and pulls the worst of the pain down, down, away from his head and arms and torso. Only his leg is still pulsing red and raw and bare to the bone. Is that what happened? Did someone peel the skin and muscles of his leg away from the bone?

His eyes now open, he tries to lift his head to take a look, but it’s not so simple. The room swims before his eyes like he’s on a boat and it makes him nauseous.

“Easy now.” A firm hand lands on his forehead and steadies the room and his stomach, his head cushioned in the back by something soft.

Alex tries to focus on the person attached to the firm hand. Part of him knows before he sees the face. The rest flinches away when eyes meet his eyes.

Dad.

His breath hitches in his throat, as if on instinct.

“It’s okay, son.” His father’s voice is low, quiet and even somewhat friendly, somewhat worried maybe? Like Alex can’t remember hearing for a long time. “Everything’s gonna be alright, I’m right here.” Dad’s other hand squeezes Alex’s hand, he can feel it. His body can feel it, but he’s kind of detached. Floating. Can’t respond. “I’m right here and I won’t let anything bad happen to you, ever again.” Dad nods, and, maybe, there’s a tear in his eye?

No. That’s not possible. Alex blinks, looks again, and knows he was wrong.

“Do you remember what happened, son?”

Alex blinks again.

Does he remember? Remember what? Was it something important? Did he forget to do something important, something dad told him to do? Bring something home or take out trash, clean up his room, or kitchen, bathroom, shed... The shed. The walls of the shed closing in, crumbling... Light. Bright like...

He can’t remember...

* * *

Next time Alex wakes to a whispered confession.

“... sorry this happened to you.” Words are soft, barely there. Hard to discern emotion from a whisper, but it feels like sadness, grief. “I’m so, _so_ sorry. But I had to protect you, I tried to protect you. And I will never stop. You’re my son.”

The words make Alex feel warm and so happy his eyes prickle. He doesn’t dare to move for fear that this moment won’t last. Keeps his eyes closed and savors his Dad’s declaration. He’s always known his Dad loved him, actually. Even if he didn’t understand some things, all he’s ever done, he’s done because he cares. Alex allows himself a small hope that they can work it out. That maybe the pain is worth it, if they can actually become a father and a son, like he’s always dreamt they would be.

He falls back to sleep with a soft fingers brushing through his hair and a whispered promise of, “I will always protect you, son.”

* * *

“Are you awake?”

Alex is brought to awareness again, this time by a blunt question.

“No,” he tries to answer, but it turns into a moan, as a wave of immense pain reaches his conscious mind. “Help...”

“We need to talk,” someone says. Dad, Alex remembers.

“Hurts...”

“Okay. This should make it a little better.” There’s a click and a warm flood.

Alex manages to blink his eyes open. “Leg?” his voice grates.

“Do you remember what happened?”

Alex thinks he’s heard this question before. Or was it a dream? The walls of the shed crumbling around him. Brightness of the sun on the fields outside. Outside of town. Their house and their shed is not in the middle of the fields outside of town. A dream then.

“Alex, I need you to stay awake for a couple of minutes, do you think you can to that?” Dad is impatient and that familiar edge to his voice snaps Alex to full attention.

“Yes, sir!”

Dad’s face is sharp in the stark daylight coming in through a window (hospital room, Alex’s consciousness registers side information and stores it for later). His eyes are color of steel, his lips pursed, he stands straight, hands crossed at the small of his back. He may not hit. Depending on the answers he’ll get in the next few minutes.

What was the question?

“Alex,” Dad repeats and it’s either very bad, because he may lose patience any second, or kind of good, because he has some consideration for Alex’s uncharacteristically slow response time (his mind is muddled, it must be from pain and maybe some medicine? he’s at the hospital, he’s probably getting something. Nevermind.) Dad speaks, “I need to know what you remember.”

Alex tries to focus. It’s important that he remembers, but all he sees are wide, bright, open fields. Foster Ranch? Or the mines, turquoise mines where they aren’t supposed to play? And a bloodied hand. And someone screaming.

He’s dizzy and he can’t breathe like something grips his throat. He’s falling backwards into the mattress, but it’s made of pins and needles and cold, so cold.

There’s a hand on his forehead (again?) steadying him and his Dad utters through gritted teeth, “I told him you’re not ready to talk, but he has to get your statement. Idiot.”

Dad’s hand smooths sweat from Alex’s forehead and his other hand grips his wrist and Alex leans into the touch. He’s needed his Dad to comfort him for such a long time. Such a long time...

“Listen to me. Alex, please, I need you to listen to me.”

Alex will do anything Dad asks now. He opens his eyes and nods. (he’s thirsty and breathless, but it can wait)

“I get it that you’re confused, but it’s important that you tell sheriff Valenti what really happened, do you hear me?” Alex nods again. “What _really_ happened.” Dad repeats and Alex knows he has to focus now. “We were at home. We heard someone rustling in the shed. It could have been an animal, or a thief. You went to check it.” Alex nods.

He doesn’t remember this, so it’s good Dad tells him. He listens.

“It was Guerin.”

Guerin. Soft smile, eyes filled with light, so beautiful, like from another world...

(The pain in Alex’s leg increases by a notch)

Dad continues. “It was Guerin. He tried to steal from us. He stole from us and then he attacked you! Do you hear me?” Alex looks at his Dad. There’s a dissonance here, but he can’t put his finger on it. Leg hurts more. “He mangled your leg. Guerin did that to you. Do you understand?”

Alex can’t remember Guerin attacking him. Can’t remember Guerin doing something to hurt him, not with that sheepish smile on his face and sun in his hair. But he was near. Near enough. Maybe?

The pain in his leg increases by another fraction, clogging his mind, and at the same time his Dad’s fingers in his hair turn his face so he looks straight into his steel-like eyes. The sharp tug of it snaps him to attention again. “Guerin was there and he attacked you,” Dad repeats, slowly. “Do you remember now?”

Alex nods.

Then he shakes his head.

“Alex!”

He nods again, tears coming into his eyes. He wants to tell Dad that Guerin wouldn’t do this, but he knows better and keeps his mouth shut. His leg hurts so bad.

“I came in too late,” Dad grits out. “He’d already... I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner.” Alex can see his Dad’s adam apple bob up and dawn as he swallows. “I got there after that little prig, Guerin, had already mangled your leg. I fought him off, but he was... he’s a strong little beast that one. He pushed me so hard, one of the walls of the shed crumbled, did you know? He’s dangerous!”

Alex nods. He doesn’t remember that, but he nods. Tears flow now freely.

“Again,” Dad says in a voice that’s cold and demanding. “What happened?” Alex closes his eyes, but he can’t prevent hearing: “Say it.”

“Guerin,” he utters. He remembers Guerin’s lips on his. Hot and yet soft. He was wanted. He was... liked. Guerin liked him more than any other. “He-- was in the shed,” Alex’s voice breaks.

“And?”

“He...” He can’t say it. But the pain is unbearable and Alex knows there’s only one way for it to stop. “He attacked me...” he whispers and a sob escapes him.

The pain lessens. And then, as the warmth floods his veins again, taking it all away, he feels his father’s lips on his forehead and he hears, “I’m right here, son, and I will take care of you now. You’ll never be alone. Remember that.”

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. :)  
> And let me know what you thought, even if it's in just a few words. I greately enjoy getting comments :)


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